Two Heads
by allthingsdecent
Summary: Another old one from my LJ: House and Cuddy in couple's therapy. A mixed bag, to be honest, but some parts work pretty well. Only read if you're REALLY interested in psychoanalyzing these two crazy kids.


**So t****his is actually two ideas of mine merged into one: Cuddy and House in couples therapy (!) and yet another take on Moving On.****Here's the premise: What if Moving On was exactly the same, except for three things:****  
****a. Cuddy didn't go out with that dweeb. (Because. . __****.really ****Cuddy?)****  
****b. House brought the brush over by himself. (No Wilson waiting in the car, which, by the way, the ASPCA disapproves of on a hot day.)****  
****c. House didn't have a psychotic break and crash into Cuddy's home. (Tiny detail.)**

**Anyhow, if you're not into obsessively probing the minds of House and Cuddy (like I am) you might be bored by this one. It's mostly angsty, but has a little humor too (I hope), once House joins the therapy sessions.****Once again, I apologize to any actual therapists out there. Everything I know about psychiatry I learned from In Treatment, Good Will Hunting, and Woody Allen films.**

_And here's the usual disclaimer: I didn't create these characters, I only psychoanalyzed them.__  
_

"I slept with House."

Licensed clinical therapist Ivy Sullivan had a pretty good poker face—it was one of the necessary tools of her trade—but she was pretty sure it had just completely abandoned her.

"Wow," she said.

"So yeah," Dr. Lisa Cuddy said. "So _that_ happened."

"Wow," Ivy repeated.

"I think it is your professional obligation to say something besides 'wow' at this point."

Ivy laughed.

Of all her patients, Lisa Cuddy was probably her favorite (not that she was supposed to play favorites.) Ivy found her to be witty and bright and enormously self-aware (an excellent quality for someone in therapy, of course.) Ivy often felt they would've been great gal pals, were it not for their clinical relationship.

Lisa had started therapy shortly after she broke up with House. It had been a particularly rough time in her life—a very real health scare, followed by the emotional breakup, and then, to make matters worse, House acting out all over the place.

Dr. Gregory House seemed like your basic clinical nightmare, as far as Ivy could tell—a narcissistic nihilist with delusions of grandeur (supported by somewhat problematic _actual_ grandeur) and suicidal/sociopathic tendencies. Ivy would need a few more letters after her name to probe the likes of him. But boy did he have a hold over Lisa.

"I'm just processing this, Lisa," she said. "I mean, frankly, I'm a little shocked. The last time we spoke, you were pretty furious at him."

"Because of the whole 'waking me up in the middle of the night and dragging me and my child into a bloody crime scene' thing?" Lisa said. (Gallows humor was another one of her more appealing qualities.)

"Yeah," Ivy said. "Because of that. . .and mail order brides and monster trucks and infantile pranks and everything else we've been talking about for the last 3 months."

Lisa nodded slowly, looked down at her hands. "I know, Ivy. . . it's complicated."

"So let's uncomplicate it."

"Have you met House?" Lisa asked drolly. "Have you met _me _for that matter? We don't do uncomplicated."

"Let's try."

She sighed. "Okay, so I met this guy, right? This perfectly nice, perfectly available, marginally cute guy. . .turns out Julia wanted to set me up with him—which was a little overly meddlesome-y on her part, but that's Julia for you."

"And?"

"And the whole idea of dating him just seemed so completely far-fetched, so totally out of the realm of possibility—so I said no. And when I told Julia what happened, she accused me of being stuck."

"Stuck?"

"Stuck. . . as in I needed some closure with House before I could move forward with my life."

"Did you agree?"

"Yeah, totally," Lisa said thoughtfully. "The way things ended with House. . . it was all so sudden. My illness, his drug use—then he spiraled out of control so fast, there was, like, no catching up with him. When House wants to pull away, he doesn't just put up walls, he puts up fortresses."

"So what did you do about it?"

"Well, I basically brow-beated House until he agreed to have lunch with me in the cafeteria. At first it was very awkward and he was typical House with the deflections and the jokes and the sarcasm. It ended with me literally _chasing him down the hall_ and demanding that he talk to me."

"Then what?"

"Well, he got a little physical with me first—grabbed my wrist, nearly slammed me against a wall—"

"My God, Lisa. . ."

"No, it was okay. I kind of . . . _broke him_, you know? He just stripped away all that snark and got real with me. He told me that I'd hurt him. There were tears in his eyes! It was the most honest he'd been with me since, well . . . ever. . .And I just felt so sad for him—crushed really. I broke his heart, Ivy. I never meant to hurt him like that."

Lisa sniffed. Ivy handed her a box of Kleenex.

"So I apologized to him," Lisa continued, blowing her nose. "It was the first time he let me get close enough to even say I was sorry. And you know what he said to me?"

"What?"

"He said, 'It's not your fault.'"

She let the words linger in the room.

"_It's not your fault_. . . " she continued. "Do you know what a gift that was? It was like he was releasing me. It was like he knew exactly what I needed to hear in that moment: You are stuck, I will free you."

"Wow."

"Yeah, wow."

"So you just had sex with him, right there in the hallway?"

"Cute. . .No, I went home and I was thinking about what he said, about all we'd been through, and I was feeling kind of sorry for myself—Rachel was over at my mother's so I could do some serious wallowing—and he just _showed up_. I had asked him to retrieve this antique hair brush I had left at his place. . ."

"Freud says we never leave things behind by accident," Ivy interrupted.

"Well, sometimes we do—when breakups are sudden and unexpected," Lisa countered.

"Fair enough. . ."

"So he brings by this brush? And I thanked him for it and we hugged and then the next thing I knew I was kissing him—it was all me, I made the first move—and then, well, we were suddenly naked."

"Wow," Ivy said.

"That word again."

"Seemed appropriate. . . So now what Lisa? Do you want to get back together with him? Because I'm going to really caution you against that."

"No, I don't want to get back together with him. Although the sex was great, in case you were wondering. . ."

"I was. . ." Ivy said. Both she and Lisa laughed.

"But no. There's a reason I broke up with House. I was not put on this earth to save Gregory House, much as it often seems that way. I have Rachel to think of and I have myself to think of too."

"So what are you going to do?"

"Ignore him for the rest of my life?"

"Sounds perfectly reasonable."

"No, I guess I'm going to talk to him. I did a terrible thing—again. I'm messing with his head. I just need to tell him that it was a mistake and it'll never happen again."

"A fine plan."

"Right," Lisa said firmly. "A plan."

########

"I did it again."

"Did what?" Ivy asked, although she was pretty sure she knew.

"Had sex with House." Lisa buried her head in her hands, mortified.

"What happened to 'it was a mistake and it'll never happen again,' Lisa?'"

"You know what they say about the best laid plans. . . no pun intended."

"Alright, start from the beginning."

"Oh God. I went to his place to tell him that we were never going have sex again. I meant it, too. And he took it really well, you know? Said he had no expectations and that he understood . . .and while we're in the middle of having this rather intense conversation, you'll never guess who walks into the room?"

"Not the mail order bride?"

"Yes!"

"What did you do?"

"I got up to leave, of course, but House kicked her out instead. He was kind of rude about it, which gave me a certain measure of pleasure, I must confess. And then he said the most remarkable thing. . .he said, 'You know, I only married her because I couldn't marry you.'"

"That's quite a line."

"I know, _right?_ So I kind of took his hand and then I was kind of _kneading_ his hand. . . and you know that moment when hand holding becomes something else—becomes something sexual?"

"Yes," said Ivy, because she did.

"Well, yeah. . .So, I guess I don't need to fill in the blanks."

"No. So now what, Lisa?"

"Nothing. I obviously need to avoid House in any sort of setting that can lead to sex. Apartments, cars, locked offices, mattress stores. . ."

"You guys clearly have a lot of unresolved feelings," Ivy said.

"Ya think?"

"This may sound far-fetched but it seems to me like you two could benefit from a conversation in a neutral setting."

"A neutral setting?"

"Yes, like this one."

"Couples therapy? _Please_."

"Why not?"

"Oh God. House would never go for that. The first—and last—time he tried therapy, he ended up calling the doctor a quack and storming out of the office. House has a real disdain for anything he regards as a human crutch—religion, psychology, that sort of thing. He doesn't believe there's a magic pill for happiness. . ."

"Except for you," Ivy said.

Lisa gaped at her. Ivy's statement had clearly caught her off guard.

"He seems to regard _you_ as a magic pill for happiness, doesn't he?" Ivy said

"I never thought of it like that," Lisa said slowly. "But I guess you're right. Put it to you this way, the things House does believe in, he believes in with absolute certainty."

"That's a lot of pressure to put on a relationship," Ivy said.

"Don't I know it."

"Like the time he told you that he chose being happy with you over being a good doctor?"

"I told you about that, huh?"

"Yeah. . .in one of our first sessions. Needless to say, it stuck with me."

"That was a terrible night," Lisa said, almost to herself. "He was so drunk. I was so angry with him. . ."

"Lisa, if you still want to resolve things with House, ask him to come to therapy. He might surprise you. My sense is that House would do just about anything to win you back."

"I'm not sure I want to be won."

"That's why you talk about it—to get that closure you've been looking for. You shut a door or maybe you open one. Either way, it'll help you be less stuck."

"I don't know, Ivy. I'll ask. . .but I'm not holding my breath."

######

Just as Ivy suspected, House did agree to the therapy. And just as Lisa had warned, he wasn't exactly happy about it.

They came in to her office together—and Ivy felt a combination of fear and pride in treating the famously anti-social diagnostician.

She'd Googled pictures of him on the web, so she already knew that he possessed rugged, if slightly world-weary, good looks. But what she couldn't have guessed from the pictures was how his sex appeal was sort of cloaked in this unmistakable sadness. He was the kind of guy, she realized, you wanted to fuck first and then feed chicken soup to (and then possibly kill). Poor Lisa never had a chance.

He sat down, crossed his long, damaged legs—looked at Ivy with thinly veiled contempt.

"My father was a sadistic ass, my mother doted on me too much, although I never wanted to have sex with her. I have a God complex, even though I don't believe in God. Like most men I confuse sex with real intimacy and I often dream about flying, probably because I can't walk. Thank you, Doctor! I'm cured!"

"House," Lisa scolded.

"It's okay," Ivy said, meeting his gaze. "First of all, I'm not a doctor, I'm a therapist. Second of all, we're not here to cure you. We're here to help you and Lisa come to an understanding. And thank you for all that insight, Dr. House. I'm sure it'll come in handy later."

House folded his arms, leaned back. "So how does this work?" he grumbled. She had apparently passed the first test.

"I want to ask you both what you hope to gain from this session—or sessions, if all goes according to plan."

"I only agreed to come once," House said.

"I hope to gain clarity," Lisa said, ignoring him.

"What she said," House said.

"I know things have gotten a little . . . unclear between you two lately," Ivy said.

"You mean because we had breakup sex?" House said.

"What was that like?" Ivy said.

"Well. . .the man puts his penis in the woman's vagina," House said. "It's actually not as uncommon as you might think. You ought to try it some time."

"House!" Lisa said, slapping him on the arm.

"Ouch," he said.

"Lisa, I notice you have a need to scold him when you think he has behaved inappropriately," Ivy said. She was trying to establish some trust with House—it wasn't easy walking in on somebody else's therapy session. "What's that all about?"

"Force of habit, I guess," Lisa admitted.

"He's a grown man. He's responsible for his own behavior."

"Up high!" House said, holding up his hand for a slap.

Ivy didn't play along, but was secretly pleased. Her strategy had apparently worked.

"Let's get back to the sex," she said.

"Oh do lets," House said.

"What did it mean to you, Lisa?"

House turned to Lisa, all ears.

"I guess it meant that I . . .still have unresolved feelings for him," Lisa said meekly.

"And what it did it mean to you, House?"

"It meant 30 minutes of escape from my crappy life," House said, looking at Lisa, then at Ivy, then back to Lisa again. "Too honest?"

"So you didn't read anything into it beyond the act itself?"

"She told me not to."

"The first time, yes. The second time. . ."

"Geez, you really tell her everything, huh?" House said to Lisa.

"It's therapy," Lisa said. "That's kind of the point."

"She told me it was just sex," House repeated. "I believed her."

"What about confusing sex with real intimacy?" Ivy said.

He gave Ivy a look—so she _had b_een paying attention.

"I guess it was nice to be close to her again," he allowed.

"Oh, that's rich," Lisa snorted.

"What's that supposed to mean?" House said.

"I mean, ever since we broke up, you've done everything in your power to _not _be close to me."

"I think you're confused," House said testily. "You're the one who dumped me. How I choose to react to being dumped is really my own business, isn't it?"

"Yes," Lisa said. "But then don't act all pathetic and talk about how you wish you were closer to me! You were the one who chose to put up barriers between us."

"I'm sorry! I'll try to react a little more to your liking the next time my heart gets ripped out of my chest."

House looked impatiently at the door. "Is this session over yet?"

"No, we still have time," Ivy said. "Let's explore this some more. . ."

He rolled his eyes. "Oh, great. . ."

Ivy ignored him.

"Lisa, I want to start with you. How would you have preferred House behave after the breakup?"

"She wanted me to beg—again," House muttered.

"I didn't want you to beg!" Lisa said, somewhat indignantly.

"Then what did you want?" Ivy probed.

"I don't know. I wanted him to yell at me! Tell me he hated my guts! Anything besides this constant barrage of mean-spirited and self-destructive pranks. It was cruel and reckless and, frankly, it didn't help either of us."

"But do you think House was under any obligation to help you? You did breakup with him, after all."

"No. . .of course not. I just didn't think his reaction would be so _extreme, you know? I thought we'd find some way to stay in each other's lives. To stay connected somehow. You can't just suddenly turn off 25 years of love and friendship. But maybe I was being naive."_

"You were," House said grouchily.

"Alright House. What about you?" Ivy said. "Why do you think you've been alienating Lisa so much since she broke up with you? You obviously still care about her."

"I don't think it's such a big fucking mystery," House said.

"Enlighten us."

"It was a survival mechanism. Fight or flight. I chose to do both."

"But what changed? You seem more willing to meet her halfway now."

"Almost dying in a pool of his own blood gives a man a little perspective on things," House said.

"What kind of perspective?"

He looked down. "Well, for one thing, she _came_. She may not have been happy about it, but she came for me."

"Of course I came, House. . ." Lisa went to touch his hand, but glanced at Ivy nervously, as if to say: Is touching allowed in therapy?

Ivy nodded—it was okay.

"And then after I woke up, after my surgery. . . and I got Rachel's note," House said.

"Rachel's note?" Ivy asked.

"She dictated a note," Lisa said, still holding House's hand, looking at him. He didn't look back.

"She said she wanted us to be friends again," House said.

"She does House. She misses you a lot," Lisa said.

House was quiet. He swallowed hard.

"So. . . have we achieved clarity?" he finally said, overly brightly. "Have you earned your 150 bucks?"

Soul-bearing time was over.

"I think you two could really benefit from another session—or twelve," Ivy cracked. "But I'd settle for one more. What do you say, House?"

"It's up to Cuddy," he said.

"I'm willing if he's willing," Lisa said.

"Good. Same time next week, then. And guys? Try not to have sex between now and then, okay?"

House and Lisa looked at each other: "Okay," they said.

#####

"Let's try a little role-playing game," Ivy said.

They were halfway through their second session and seemed to be at an impasse: House had devised a little game he called Therapy Bingo for every time Ivy used what he considered a "healing buzzword"—"feeling," "empower," "journey," et al. (He had already spelled out B-I-N-G.) And he and Lisa were going in circles, too— with House blaming Lisa for the breakup and Lisa blaming House for pulling so far away.

Ivy had often found that role playing was an effective tool in such moments.

"House, you be Lisa. And Lisa, you be House."

"Hold on a second," House said. He tossed back some imaginary hair, unbuttoned his shirt a little, and stuck out his chest. "Just getting in character," he said.

Lisa sneered at him. She slouched her shoulders, messed up her own hair with her hands, and said gruffly, "Whoa. Your ass is HUGE!"

"I don't sound like that!" House objected. "And I wouldn't say it like that, anyway. I'd say something like, 'Your ass is so huge Sarah Palin can see it from her house.'"

Ivy stifled a laugh.

"Well, I don't stick out my breasts" Lisa said defensively.

"You don't have to. Nature—and the Wonderbra—does the work for you."

"Okay, time out!" Ivy refereed. "I'm glad to see you're both getting into the spirit of this, but let's play nice. We'll start with you, Lisa. As House, I want you to tell me why you think Lisa broke up with you."

"Because she's a bitch," Lisa said.

"I don't think you're a . . ."

"House, no interrupting. Let her talk. Keep going, Lisa. You're still House. Why is she a bitch?"

"I took vicodin one time and she dumped me."

"Is that really what you think?" Ivy asked.

"That's how it felt," Lisa said.

The real House shook his head, but said nothing.

"Do you think Cuddy was hard on you, House?"

"I do actually," Lisa said. "I think she expected me to be this perfect boyfriend. I tried really hard for her. But nothing I ever did was good enough."

House looked surprised. Ivy could see that Lisa had approached something resembling the truth.

"And what about the sex?"

"Sex? I tapped that ass night and day!" Lisa-as-House boasted, using her gruff voice again.

"No need to do voices, Lisa. This isn't acting class."

"Christ, do I really sound like that?" House asked.

"Let's try again, House," Ivy said, looking at Lisa. "I was referring to the post-breakup sex you guys just had. How did that make you feel?"

"BINGO!" real-House said triumphantly, holding up an imaginary Bingo sheet. "_How did that make you feel? _The cornerstone of any good game of Therapy Bingo."

Lisa shot him a look.

"When we had sex it made me. . .hopeful that we could get back together," she said. "Like maybe I had a second chance."

House regarded her warily. Ivy could tell he was trying to figure things out: Is that what she wanted? Or just what she thought _he_ wanted?

"Thank you, House," Ivy said to Lisa. "And Lisa"—she now turned to House—"why did you break up with House?"

"I'm not playing," House said. "This is completely idiotic."

"Just try," Ivy said.

"I can't. I'd feel like a moron."

"Do it for me," Lisa said.

Their eyes locked for a second. He sighed.

"Because House is a nice place to visit, but nobody in their right mind would ever want to live there," he said finally.

RealLisa went to object, but Ivy waved her off.

"What do you mean by that, Lisa?"

"I mean, he was just something I needed to get out my system. So I did."

"But were you in love with him?"

"Apparently not enough," House said.

"So why did you have sex with him twice this month?"

"I honestly don't know," he said.

"Think."

"Pity sex?" he asked.

"Did you break up with him because he took vicodin?"

"No," he said, looking at Lisa. "I broke up with him because he wasn't there for me."

"How so?"

"He didn't come to my award banquet and he never helped around the house unless something was in it for him and he . . .totally disappeared on me when I was dying."

Ivy nodded.

"You must've felt really lonely and scared without him."

House blinked. "I did," he said.

He gave the real Lisa a puppy-dog look. A definite chicken soup moment, Ivy thought.

"Okay actual Lisa. As yourself, do you want to respond to anything he just said?" Ivy asked.

"God, I want to respond to _everything_ he just said," Lisa said.

"Start with the pity sex. Accurate?"

"No! I had sex with him—"

"Talk to House."

"I had sex with you, House, because I felt close to you in those moments. And I wanted to feel even closer, okay?"

"Okay," House said, looking at the floor.

"What about getting House out of your system?"

"An absolute crock," Lisa said. "House, you've been in my life for 25 years. You will always be in my life. Trust me, there's no 'getting you out of my system.'"

"And the part about him not being there for you?"

Lisa looked at House. Her face fell a bit.

"I guess that part is true," she said.

He looked back.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I tried really hard. . ."

"I know you did," she said, taking his hand. "I saw how hard you tried. I feel like I didn't tell you that enough."

A single tear trickled down her cheek.

"I'm sorry," she said.

House took his thumb, wiped the tear away.

"It's okay," he said. "I told you, it's not your fault."

Ivy felt invisible, rare for a therapist in a couples therapy setting, where both parties were usually vying for the counselor's approval.

The bond that these two have is unique, she thought. It's like they're inside their own little cone of intimacy.

"Look, it's been a stressful session, guys. Lisa, why don't you say something nice to House? Tell him something you miss about him."

"I miss him next to me in the bed at night," Lisa said softly. "I miss him making me laugh. I miss him making Rachel laugh."

House smiled a bit, as if he was remembering a specific time he had made Rachel laugh.

"And House, tell us something you miss about Lisa."

"I miss everything about her," he said honestly.

They stared at each other intensely, back inside the cone.

Ivy watched them for a bit. "Alright, good work guys," she said finally. "I think we really made some progress today. Can we try again next week?"

They snapped out of it in unison—both literally surprised to hear another voice.

"Okay," House said, without hesitating.

"I'd like that," Lisa said.

They got up, left her office together. Ivy stood, couldn't help but to watch them through the mottled glass of her door. In the hallway, they stood, facing each other. House leaned down, whispered something in Lisa's ear. She gave a half smile, hugged him for a long time. They exited the building, their arms slightly touching.

Ivy was pretty sure they were going off to have sex.

And she wasn't sure if that meant she was doing a good job or a lousy one.


End file.
